Another Quirrelmort Story
by Little Miss Thalia Grace
Summary: Quirrelmort AU. I mixed Fandoms and got... this. Includes TheDoctor!Ginny, Bigger On The Inside tents, and Quirrelmort! ...But that's not until the second chapter.
1. Of Friends and Flowers

**A/N: I plan on making this into 4 parts, so don't think I'm being a major bitch and leaving you guys hanging. Dedicated to KK94 and NimueTheSorceress, but I seriously doubt I have to actually type that anymore. **

**Another Quirrelmort Story**

**Part 1:**

**Of Flowers and Friends**

Tom Riddle was six years old when he was forced to attend his first Society dinner. He had heard of them, and the idea of adults treating him like a small, stupid child was not appealing, especially when Tom was more intelligent than all of then put together.

But his father still dressed him up in a stupid suit with those really uncomfortable shoes that make Tom want to kill himself, if the bowtie didn't suffocate him 's hair was slicked back in a way that made him grimace and gag.

By the time the actual guests arrived, Tom had the urge to wrap his hands around someones neck, preferably his father's, something that was not unusual for him. His father pulled him aside and warned him against any funny business, or he would face... the consequences. Tom swore that he would one day kill his father, and maybe add his grandparents to the list.

The dinner passed slowly, the adults not even bothering to pay attention to Tom, other than the occasional dirty look reserved for the Riddle bastard child. Tom was forced to smile his way through it, cause it just wouldn't do for him to humiliate his father by going having a tantrum.

When dessert was served, Tom was just so frigging relieved, because that meant it was almost over. That was, until the adults mentioned the after party. Tom was ready to strangle some one again, this time the lady wearing all the pink. Half an hour into the party, every adult was completely wasted. Tom knew what happened when people got drunk, so he thought this would be a good opportunity to take a walk in the garden.

Sighing as he breathed in fresh air and not booze and cologne, he went over to his favorite part of the garden, the pink carnations. Ever since he found out how his mother died and he had gotten his hands on a book with flower meanings, the flowers were his get-away. The ruffled petals were a emblem to Mother's Day, a way of saying that he would never forget her. He reached the section and sat down in the grass, not caring about the certain grass-stains or his father's reaction.

He was at peace.

Then, suddenly, the peace was broken by the ruffling of leaves and a shy, shaky voice. "H-H-Hello." It stuttered. Tom turned to see who it was. It was a boy his age, or perhaps a year or two younger, with pale skin and chestnut brown hair. When Tom caught the boy's eye, which happened to be a soft light blue that reminded Tom of the sky during a summer day, with his own, he felt tingles in his tummy. What if he was coming down with something? That would be bad, though maybe not so much if he could get out of another dinner...

Another dinner or being stuck in the house alone with his father?

Dinner it was.

"Hello." Tom said back, down casting his eyes, which only made his heart pump faster. What was wrong with him?

"W-What's your n-name?" The boy asked, after averting his eyes too.

Tom peeked up him from under his lashes. "I'm Tom," he hesitated. "Riddle."

To Tom's relief, the boy didn't start worshiping the ground he walked on or call him a worthless mistake, he just nodded. "Q-Quirinus Quirrell," He introduced. "Bu-But you can j-j-just call m-me Quirrell."

"Alright then Quirrell," Knowing that he was going to be out here the rest of the night and he already had ruined his suit, Tom ripped off his bowtie and kicked off his shoes. Quirrell raised his eyebrow but didn't comment. "So... what brings you out here?" Tom asked, deciding he might as well make the most of what little social time he had with people his age.

"I-I'm looking a-a-at the fl-flowers. Th-They're lovely..." Quirrell trailed off and let his eyes wonder the many columns of bright flowers, their liveliness diminished by the night-time.

"Yeah, I come out here a lot. I like the pink carnations. They remind me of my mother..." Tom wasn't sure why he was telling this kid he just met something he had never shared with anyone before, but it wasn't like he had many people to tell in the first place.

When Quirrell didn't start calling him a momma's boy, Tom felt another flash of relief. Instead, the other boy nodded like he understood. "I-I like a-all the f-f-flowers, they're j-just so pr-pretty."

"They are. Do you have a favorite?" he asked.

"Y-Yeah, I l-like Irises. They s-stand for faith and Wisdom and fr-friendship, all of w-which I don't have..."

"Well, hey, I can't say I know how religious or smart you are, but you don't seem to be so bad a guy. And we're friends, right?" Tom said, hesitantly throwing his arm around Quirrell's shoulders in something of a hug. That's what friends did, right? They shared stuff and hugged...

"W-We are?" Quirrell looked about as hopeful as Tom felt, which was a lot.

"Yeah, of course." Tom held out his hand. "Friends?"

Quirrell hesitantly shook it. "Friends."

Tom was about to say something else, but music sounded from across the garden. An idea occurred to Tom, but it was risky. He didn't want to even think of the consequences if they were caught. Steeling his nerves, he looked down at Quirrell's hand, which was still linked into his, and asked, "Would you like to dance?"

Quirrell gave him a look. "D-Dance?" He questioned.

Tom nodded. "Of course, there's music... and no one would see us..." I hope. Tom added silently. It didn't matter whether they were six or sixty, two boys doing anything other than friendly things together was hugely frowned upon. Dancing was nowhere near friendly.

Quirrell was obviously thinking this too, but Quirrell still grabbed Tom's hand. "O-Okay, let's dance." He said.

Tom grinned when he heard the song turn into something slow. He loved to waltz, it was one of his favorites, along with ballet and jazz. Tom put his hand on Quirrell's waist and Quirrell rested his arm on Tom's shoulder. Quirrell was a few inches shorter than Tom, so they were the perfect height for each other.

Tom twirled Quirrell around the way he practiced on his own in his free time, making them both giggle. Tom couldn't remember ever feeling so carefree, which was kind of ridiculous because he was six, but true nonetheless. Quirrell just made him feel... like he was something. Anything other than the stupid mistake his father liked to call him.

He finally had a friend. A friend he was currently dancing with in his socks in the garden at 11:30 at night. A friend that made him feel like he was going to throw up, but in a good way. They danced for what seemed forever, until a voice interrupted them.

"THOMAS!" The voice, which was obviously a man's, yelled across the yard.

Tom swore and pulled away from Quirrell, peering over the giant hedge blocking them from view. There was his father, face bright red from yelling. Tom paled, thinking of what would have happened if his father had found him dancing with Quirrell. Something much worse than his 'consequences', Tom mentally guessed.

"I have to go." Tom told Quirrell, already running in the opposite direction to the front, where he could hopefully sneak past the other guests and barricade himself in his room.

Tom made it back to his room in a record speed and his father only tried to get through seven times before giving up, another record. Tom listened in his bed as his father smashed what was probably another one of his Grandmother's ugly vases. Sometimes Tom wished for burglars, if only to get some peace and quiet.

In a town about a hour away from little Hangleton, Quirrell also lay in his bed, promising to himself he'd see his new friend again. Only Quirrell didn't know that the next time he saw Tom, it would be in a different setting. One filled with Goblins and Ghosts and Magical Feasts.

**End Part 1.**


	2. Of Redheads and Dimensions

**And here is the part of the story that matches the summary, with significantly less Quirrell *cries*. I am so sorry.**

**Another Quirrelmort Story**

**Part 2**

**Of Redheads and Dimensions**

Ginny Weasley sighed as she looked down at the two boys that had just finished their O.W.L. exams, and were now chatting lively about some type of potion.

You see, Ginny was a girl on a mission. Back in her dimension, she was approached in a magical dream by a man that looked a little too much like Barty Crouch Jr. He told her that since Quirrelmort was endgame, he needed someone trustworthy to go to the other dimensions and make it happen, and he picked her. And Ginny agreed, mostly because Quirrelmort was her OTP.

When Ginny asked the man's name, he said for her to call him 'The Doctor'. The name seemed familiar, but Ginny shrugged it off as it being a stage name or something. If they could travel time and alternate universes, muggle healers weren't as lame as she first thought.

She ended up visiting many different plot lines, including one where they were all pirates, one where she was actually adopted by Squirrell and Voldy, and one where Voldy was a detective and Quirrell was his blogger and Potter was a criminal mastermind... That last one was her favorite, mostly because she got to pretend to be a muggle doctor. The only downside was when Voldy seemed to think she had a crush on him. Not to mention the awkwardness of having dated that Potter and him turning out to be be gay for Malfoy.

In all of those dimensions, she had to push Quirrell and Tomdemort in the right direction. It seemed she now had to do the same, in this time. Seeing her two boys, as she started to call them, find each other over and over in different ways was a job she didn't think she would ever grow tired of, and it wasn't just from the satisfaction of it being her who got them together.

She had already done a bit, making Quirrel and Tom, as he was currently called, meet in the garden nine years ago, and then again on the Hogwarts Express, which led them to where they were now. Sixteen, prepubescent and denying their feelings for each other. Ginny was there to fix that. She just had to wait a while.

That while turned out to be a few weeks until all Hogwarts students were at their homes. Ginny decided to go to Tom first, because he would, probably the one to accept his feelings first.

She waited until Tom was off the train at King's Cross before she made her move. Feeling very much like a stalker, she followed him to his taxi. He got in and right before he was going to close the door, Ginny hopped in too. Tom gave her a look like 'Who the hell are you?' but she ignored it. "We'll be going to the Rosenthal train station, please."

The cabbie nodded and Tom was speechless. When he finally seemed to get his voice back, it was chilling. "Who the hell are you?"

Ginny closed the small window that separated her and Tom from the driver. "I am..." she paused for dramatic effect. "The Ginger. But you can call me Ginevra or Ginny." Ginny was pretty proud of the name, seeing as she ripped it off from the Doctor. Something told her he wouldn't mind much.

Tom raised eyebrow. "The Ginger, Ginny, Ginevra, whatever your name is, what are you doing here? How do you know where I was going? And why did you rip off the Doctor?"

"Doctor who?" She asked innocently, ignoring the other questions.

"Exactly!" Tom exclaimed before glaring again. "Now how do you know who I am?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "I was sent through multiple dimensions to ensure that you and Quirinus Quirrell end up together in whatever way possible. I'm here to do it again."

Tom had a look of disbelief on his face. "So you're here to make sure me and Quirrell live happily ever after?"

"Mm hm." the red-head affirmed.

"In any way possible?"

"Yep."

"Well, good luck, 'cause I'm pretty sure Quirrell doesn't like me like that." Tom said, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I spied on you two the last couple days before Hogwarts let out. If he's not into you, then Cho Chang isn't a slut."

"I'm sorry, but what?" Tom asked, looking somewhat shocked. Then Ginny gave herself a mental facepalm, because it was the 40's, and the 40's had a very specific view on women.

But Ginny just waved this off. "She's a girl a few decades in the future, but that's not the point. The point is, you love Quirrell, Quirrell loves you, and you two should kiss already and have little gay babies."

Tom sighed. "Look, as much as I would love that, we can't. There are rules against that stuff and-"

"Since when have you cared about rules or public opinion?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"I don't, but most people already hate me for one reason or another, and I can't do that to Quirrell..." Tom's voice kept getting smaller and smaller until he trailed off completely.

This time, it was Ginny who sighed. "Quirrell was born gay. He is very flamboyantly gay. I am almost certain everyone- including you- knows he's gay. It really doesn't make a difference whether he has an actual boyfriend or not. It would actually help him, most likely."

Tom pondered this. "Alright, but when he turns me down, you'll have to live with the guilt of knowing you failed your little 'job'."

Ginny grinned. "That's fine."

As it turned out, Quirrell saying yes didn't take that much work. All Tom really had to do was ask the other man and—BOOM—it was fairytale ending.

Ginny was understandably smug.

"What did I tell you? He said yes, as I knew he would! Wanna know why? Because I'm freaking amazing!"

"Oh, shut your mouth." Tom scowled at her, snuggling with Quirrell.

Ginny decided to stay in the timeline a little longer.


End file.
